


you've been crossing through my mind all day

by ninepointeight



Category: Men's Basketball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dirty Talk, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Semi-Public Sex, Slice of Life, kyrie appreciation, lebron is salty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21902083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninepointeight/pseuds/ninepointeight
Summary: “Oh,” Luka blinks, glancing back at Kyrie once more. “I was just thinking…” he says, “do you think I have a shot with Kyrie?”Russell stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. “A shot,” he finally says after a second, “as in…” he trails off, as if unable to finish the thought.“As in I want to take him on a date, yeah,” Luka finishes for him helpfully. “Do I have a chance or not?”
Relationships: Kyrie Irving/LeBron James
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	you've been crossing through my mind all day

**Author's Note:**

> yeah the setting of this fic makes no sense whatsoever...just pretend every NBA player mentioned was somehow on Team USA simultaneously for some reason :-) actually this fic makes no sense

Kyrie is practicing threes on the other side of the court. Luka watches him, lost in thought. 

His form is textbook. Rainbow arc perfect. The ball doesn’t do anything except for swish through the net; but that isn’t what Luka is looking at–

“What are you staring at, man?” Russell stops dribbling to ask him. 

“Oh,” Luka turns to face Russell, before glancing back at Kyrie once more. “I was just thinking…” he says, “do you think I have a shot with Kyrie?” 

Russell stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. “A shot,” he finally says after a second, “as in…” he trails off, as if unable to finish the thought.

“As in I want to take him on a date, yeah,” Luka finishes for him helpfully. “Do I have a chance or not?” 

Bizarrely, Russell begins to laugh. “Are you seriously asking that?” 

Luka frowns, “what’s that supposed to mean?” 

Russell looks at him like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Hey, KD,” he calls out to where Kevin is shooting free throws. “Listen to this: Luka wants to know whether or not he can get with Kyrie.” 

Kevin misses the shot. His head whips around, weirdly long limbs straightening up. “You _what?_ ” He asks Luka. 

“Stop making me repeat myself,” Luka replies, frustrated. What is up with these two? 

“Sorry man, I just,” Russell chuckles again. “I know you’re relatively new here, but how do you not know the answer to that question already?” In the distance, the trainer calls for him, and Russell leaves with a wave and that painfully cryptic response. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luka asks his retreating back. 

“It means,” Kevin walks towards him, clapping him on the shoulder as he passes by, “that you should probably set your sights on somebody else.”

He also leaves Luka standing there, miffed. How did they manage to say so much but at the same time nothing at all? Russell should be a politician. 

Neither of them seem to have much faith in him, but who is Luka but a doer upper? Taking wild shots is what he does for a living. He looks back to where Kyrie is still practicing. Yeah, screw them. He’s doing this.

*

Luka wipes his palms on his Team USA shorts discreetly as he approaches. 

“Hey,” he says as casually as he can when he’s close enough. Kyrie looks at him and nods back in greeting, but doesn’t pause as he takes another shot. 

“What’s up?” Kyrie asks, frowning cutely when the ball bounces off the rim. Someone throws another one to him immediately. 

“Say, I was wondering,” Luka says. “Are you free tonight?” 

That makes Kyrie finally pause in his movements, turning to face Luka. God, he has to look up to meet Luka’s eyes– that’s adorable. “What for?” He asks, tilting his head to one side. 

“Just, to grab dinner,” Luka says a bit nervously. “Or something.” He adds. 

Kyrie’s eyes widen in surprise for a second before the corner of his mouth curves up, like he’s smiling at some joke that Luka isn’t privy to. “Sorry,” he says slowly, “but I don’t think I’m free for the kind of dinner you’re thinking of.” 

“The kind of dinner I’m thinking of,” Luka repeats, blinking down at Kyrie. He turns the words over in his head; now that's a rejection if he's ever heard one. “Well, never let it be said that I don’t know how to take a hint.” 

Kyrie laughs out loud at that. “Sorry, man,” he says again, “it’s just the first time someone’s asked me that in a long time. I mean, I thought everybody knew that–”

“Kyrie!” A deep voice shouts from the other side of the gym. Kyrie looks towards it, startled, before his face lights up with excitement. Luka turns to find the source, and, oh, what the hell, that’s–

“Bron!” Kyrie shouts back, waving enthusiastically as Lebron approaches them. They hug like they just won another ring together when he’s close enough; that is, weirdly intimate and highly emotionally. Luka vaguely feels like he shouldn’t even be watching it happen. 

When they finally let go of each other, Luka steps forward for the customary handshake and hug. “Hey, man, how you been?” Lebron says as he claps Luka on the back crisply and pulls away, not a second too long. 

“Everything’s good,” Luka replies. He glances at Kyrie, who looks like he’s about to burst waiting to talk to Lebron. He won’t keep them any longer, then. He’s such an understanding guy. “Well, I’ll see you guys around,” he says, starting to back away. “And Kyrie, if you ever change your mind, feel free to shoot me a text or a call.” 

Kyrie laughs. Not in a mean-spirited way or anything, at least not that Luka can sense, but almost bordering on hysterical. “Sure, Luka,” he says, smiling, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Lebron shoots him an indecipherable look as he walks away, but Luka just sticks his hands in his pockets. Oh, well.

*

“So what was that about?” Lebron asks, as soon as Luka appears to be out of earshot. 

“What was what about?” Kyrie counters, bending down to pick up his ball. 

“‘If you ever change your mind,’” Lebron mimics, with air quotes and everything, “‘shoot me a text or a call’?”

“Oh, that,” Kyrie says. “Yeah, he asked me to dinner.” 

Lebron stares at him. “He asked you to _dinner?_ ” He repeats, after a moment. 

“He did,” Kyrie confirms, dribbling absentmindedly, “but I think he genuinely doesn’t know.” 

“Doesn’t know?” Lebron says skeptically, “he’s been in the league for a year or two by now, and he sure doesn’t look blind and deaf to me.” 

Kyrie makes to shoot the ball, when he feels a broad chest against his back and one arm wrap around his waist from behind. “Bron,” he says, not moving, “what are you doing?” 

“Just showing you how to shoot a three correctly,” Lebron replies faux-innocently. He brings his mouth to speak next to Kyrie’s ear, “is he watching?” 

“I don’t need you to teach me how to shoot, old man,” Kyrie says. He looks over to Luka, who is blinking at them quizzically, and sighs. “Yeah, he’s watching. Looks real confused.” 

“Good,” Lebron mutters, voice gruff, pulling their bodies even closer together under the guise of adjusting Kyrie’s grip on the ball. 

Kyrie huffs out a laugh and lets Lebron move his fingers one millimeter or so to the left. “Jealous?” 

Lebron blows against the sensitive underside of his neck playfully, and Kyrie can’t help but shiver. “Yeah,” Lebron says against his skin, “want everybody to know you’re mine.” 

Kyrie goes silent, for long enough that Lebron has to jostle him a little. “Babe?” 

At that, Kyrie elbows Lebron until he steps away. He shoots the ball, which goes in, and turns around to grab Lebron’s arm. “Locker room,” he says simply, not looking back before starting to walk. 

“Wh–” Lebron lets himself get pulled a few steps, staring at the back of Kyrie’s head, “what are you doing?” 

Kyrie spins around to look up at him. “Look, do you want a blowjob or not?” 

It takes a few seconds for Lebron’s brain to catch up. When it does, he swallows heavily and straightens up. “Yeah,” he says, “yeah, that’d be nice.” 

*

The best thing about the Team USA facility is that it’s spacious, with wide shower stalls lined with shiny marble. 

Lebron can’t help but swear when Kyrie drops to his knees. He cards a hand through Kyrie’s hair as the latter starts to rapidly undo Lebron’s pants. Soon enough, Kyrie is pulling Lebron’s cock out with one hand and rubbing along its length slowly. 

He sticks out his tongue to collect a drop of precum at the tip, an action at which they both moan in response to. “Fuck, you have no idea how good you look like this.” Lebron groans. 

One corner of Kyrie’s mouth pulls up, and he rubs Lebron’s painfully hard cock pointedly. “I think I have some idea,” he says. And then, without warning, he dives back down and takes Lebron’s cock as far as he can all at once. It’s too big for Kyrie to be able to fit the whole length in his mouth, but he makes up for the residual with his hand. 

Fuck, Lebron thinks. There’s saliva and precum sliding out of the corners of Kyrie’s mouth, his lashes are long and dark, and he looks so intently, enthusiastically into it. Lebron learned long ago that Kyrie is a slurper, and today is no different as he licks up the length of Lebron’s dick. 

“Jesus, fuck,” Lebron swears, almost in reverence. “Baby, look at you,” he cups Kyrie’s jaw with one hand, tracing the outline of his cock on Kyrie’s cheek with his thumb. “So fuckin’ hot.” 

Kyrie moans in response, looking up at Lebron through his lashes. He pulls off of Lebron’s cockhead with a pop. “Can,” he says, catching his breath, “can you talk dirty to me?” 

Lebron smirks. “Of course, baby,” he replies. They’ve done this enough times that he knows what Kyrie is really asking him. He grabs the back of Kyrie’s head before the other man can say anything, pulling it down so his cock is enveloped in that smooth, wet heat again. 

He starts fucking Kyrie’s mouth in slow, long motions. Kyrie’s eyes are closed in pleasure, and he’s making these small ‘ah-ah’ sounds every time Lebron hits the back of his throat. Lebron groans, “fuck, you love being on your knees, don’t you?” Kyrie cracks his eyes open at that, eyes shiny with unshed physiological tears and moaning in agreement. 

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” Lebron says, hips not slowing in the slightest as he thumbs over Kyrie’s bottom lip. “Such a fucking slut. So hungry for my cock. Look, you’re fucking drooling for it.” He smears at a bit of saliva at the corner of Kyrie’s mouth. 

“Bet you were thinking about this all day, weren’t you? Out there shooting threes on the court, all prim and proper…but you just wanted to get on your knees for me.” Lebron all but growls, and Kyrie shakes his head in denial on instinct, embarrassed. “No?” Lebron asks in mock surprise, “yeah, right. You know what you should’ve said when fucking Luka tried to ask you out?” Kyrie looks at him with wide eyes, waiting for an answer. 

“That you’re Lebron James’s whore,” Lebron says slowly, “and his whore alone.” 

Kyrie moans around his cock unintelligibly, but Lebron imagines it’s something of an enthusiastic agreement. “I find it hard to believe that Luka didn’t know exactly what he was doing,” Lebron grunts. Fuck, he’s getting close to coming. “If only he could see this. You, fucking desperate for my cock.” 

Kyrie knows better than to touch himself during this by now. He keeps his hands balled in fists in his lap, letting Lebron hold his head in place as he pleases. It’s a couple more minutes before Lebron pulls away; Kyrie breathes heavily through his mouth, “why’d you stop?” 

Lebron tilts Kyrie’s head up with a hand on his chin, eyes dark. “Do you want it in your mouth or on your face?” 

Kyrie blinks at him slowly. “On my face,” he says, “please.” 

Lebron starts to jerk off in quick motions, and Kyrie kneels there, watching him intently. “Fuck,” Lebron grunts, “you ready?” 

Kyrie tilts his face up eagerly into Lebron’s palm in response. “Yeah,” he says breathlessly. 

A couple tugs later, and Lebron is coming in long stripes all over Kyrie’s face. His eyes are closed, expression blissed out as hot spurts of cum hit his face. He opens his eyes again slowly to look at Lebron again when he’s done coming. 

“Babe,” Lebron breathes out at the sight below him. There’s cum clinging to Kyrie’s eyelashes and cheekbones, slowly drip-dropping down the curve of his face. Kyrie opens his mouth to catch a spot of cum near his mouth, and moans loudly and shamelessly as he swallows it. 

“Bron…” Kyrie murmurs almost shyly, biting his lip. “You taste so good.” 

Lebron is pretty sure he can hear something in his brain snap. Jesus, he’s going to fuck Kyrie so good when they get home later. “Yeah?” He says gruffly in the meantime, swiping his thumb through a trail of cum on Kyrie’s cheek. “Better not waste any of it, then.” 

Kyrie seems to get the cue, and opens his mouth immediately to let Lebron push his thumb inside. He curls his tongue around Lebron’s finger, sucking greedily and moaning all the while. He stares up at Lebron the whole time with half-lidded eyes, letting Lebron press down forcefully on the flat of his tongue. 

“God, you really love this, don’t you,” Lebron says, scraping the pad of his thumb against the velvet insides of Kyrie’s mouth. “Being my slut.” 

Kyrie pulls away with a wet pop. “Yeah,” he huffs out hotly, “I like it when…when you tell me what to do.” 

“And I like it when you listen to me,” Lebron replies. “So fuckin’ hot, you know that?” 

Kyrie turns his head to smile into Lebron’s palm. The shift in atmosphere is strange. Lebron had just spent the past fifteen minutes or so fucking Kyrie’s face into oblivion, but as they bask in the afterglow, the air is just that sugary and sweet. 

*

Luka is just taking a quick bathroom break in between drills. As soon as he enters the locker room, he sees Lebron coming out of the showers– which is weird, considering Lebron is fully-clothed and seems to be completely dry. 

The “hey” dies on the tip of Luka’s tongue when he sees Kyrie walking behind Lebron, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. That would be all fine and dandy, except Luka can’t help but notice how unusually red and wet Kyrie’s mouth looks. Coupled with the strangely relaxed posture and lazy smile, he looks almost…pornographic. 

Luka’s eyes flit back to Lebron. He’s holding himself in a very particular, self-satisfied way that Luka has definitely seen before. 

Namely, on guys who just got laid. 

Look, Luka isn’t a dumb guy. He has decently intact deductive reasoning skills and he’s capable of connecting the dots, especially when they are presented to him in such a glaring fashion. 

“Oh,” he says out loud. Lebron and Kyrie both turn their heads, startled, to look at him. Luka stares back at them, “so you guys are gay for each other.” 

Lebron’s left eye twitches at that, which would honestly be kind of hilarious if Luka were not still in mild shock. Kyrie just lifts his eyebrows in amusement, lips quirking upwards. “Yeah,” he says, laughter evident in his voice, “that’s one way to put it.” 

“Okay,” Luka blinks. Oh, well, greener pastures and everything– but there _is_ a larger issue here at play. “Did you guys really have to get it on in the showers? I’m not too keen on the idea of cooling off with your jizz two meters away from me.” 

Lebron smiles disarmingly at that. “You don’t have to worry about that, man,” he says, “Kyrie swal–”

“ _Alright!_ ” Kyrie interrupts him loudly. His ears are suspiciously red as he presses a hand to Lebron’s chest, “that’s enough out of you.” 

Luka looks between them somewhat skeptically. “Right,” he says slowly, “well. This has been nice. I’m just gonna. Go piss now.” 

Kyrie blinks at him. “Don’t let us keep you,” he says, licking over his bottom lip absentmindedly. Jesus, he looks so fucking erotic. Definitely looking the part for someone who just presumably sucked cock. 

Lebron narrows his eyes at Luka, as if sensing his train of thought. He nods at Luka a bit stiffly as the he and Kyrie start to walk towards the entrance. Luka nods back, and his eyes can’t help but trail after them as they leave. 

The height difference is kind of cute, he supposes. Lebron’s shoulders are much broader than Kyrie’s, and he leans down to murmur something in Kyrie’s ear that makes Kyrie laugh and slap his arm. They’re clearly comfortable around each other, and clearly very in love. 

Luka’s _not_ salty. Just…lonely. 

Whatever. He sighs to himself as he starts walking towards the bathrooms; he’s sure he’ll find someone eventually, too.

**Author's Note:**

> that was crack, pls dont take it too seriously. comments are appreciated!


End file.
